"Advisor wants you?"

Lanier patted his coat pocket. "Priority. But I have to make sure Vasquez is going to work out." He turned toward the hatchway.

"I'll be waiting," Heineman called after. He looked at the tuberider and V/STOL, eyes bright.

Chapter Eight

Lanier escorted Carrolson in a truck to the seventh chamber. In the tunnel, Carrolson turned on the cab light and removed a pouch from the box in her lap. "Give electronics high marks this week," she said. "Patricia asked for something and they got it to me in twenty-four hours."

"What is it?"

"You really want to know? It might upset you."

He smiled. "It's my job to be upset."

"She asked for a meter to check out local values of pi, Planck's constant—slash aitch, rather—and the gravitational constant. Electronics threw in speed of light, ratio of proton mass to electron mass, and neutron decay time. I don't know whether she'll use them all, but she's got them."

"Sounds pretty high-tech to me."

"I asked how they managed to squeeze some of the tests into a package this size. They smiled and said they've been building defense satellites for CSOC for years, and the multi-meter was easy in comparison. They scavenged circuits from some surplus security devices. I don't know how it works, but it does. At least, it seems to. Look." She pushed a button marked with the Greek letter pi. The luminous display read "3.41592645 stable."

"My calculator will do that."

"It won't tell you if pi changes."

"So who's this billed to?"

"Science, of course. Is there no poetry in your soul—does everything reduce to billing?"

"It's in my blood. Anyway, remove it from science and charge it to a new, special category. Mark that category 'Vasquez' and keep the expenditures confidential."

"Yes, sir." Carrolson put the multi-meter back in its felt bag as they came down the ramp into the tubelight. "Will she be expensive?"

"I don't know. I want to separate science in the first six chambers from anything done here. I'll be back on Earth in a couple of days, and part of my time may be spent arguing money with senators and congressmen. It's a complicated subject."

"My curiosity is checked," Carrolson said. "You think she'll work out?"

Lanier cast a peeved glance at her. "Don't you start. Give her whatever she wants, treat her kindly, keep her on the straight and narrow after I'm gone. She'll do fine."

"Because the Advisor says?"

Lanier halted the truck near the tent. "She seems to get along well with Farley. If something important drags you away, what say we have Farley chaperone her? Even if she is Chinese."

"I don't foresee any problems there."

"Nor I. You'll take Vasquez back and forth to the libraries, with a military escort, not Farley. That's my only stipulation."

"Fine. Now for some real sore points," Carrolson said.

"What?"

"The Russians are grumbling about pulling out their members. If the Russians go, my sources tell me the Chinese might pull out as well. A knee-jerk response. They've been complaining, too, and they don't want anyone to think they're more gullible than the Russians."